All the Possibilities Read Free Page B

you're dealing with millions." Alan forgot that he hadn't wanted to debate as he idly toyed with the ring she wore on her pinky. "Not everyone would adhere to a fair profit balance, no one would pay taxes, and the small businessman would have no more protection than the consumer would."
    "It's hard to believe filling out my social security number in triplicate accomplishes all that." His touch moving in a half-friendly, half-seductive manner over her skin was distracting enough, but when he smiled
    when he really smiled
    Shelby decided he
    —
    —
    was the most irresistible male she'd ever encountered.
    Perhaps it was that touch of sobriety lurking around the edges of humor.
    "There's always a large overlap between bureaucracy and necessity." He wondered
    —
    only for a moment
    what in hell he was doing having this conversation with a woman
    —
    who looked like a nineteenth-century waif and smelled like every man's dream.
    "The best thing about rules is the infinite variety of ways to break them." Shelby gave a trickle of the laughter that had first attracted him. "I suppose that's what keeps you in business."
    A voice drifted through the open window, brisk, cool, and authoritative. "Nadonley might have his finger on the pulse of American-Israeli relations, but he isn't making many friends with his current policy."
    "And his frumpy, tourist-class travel look is wearing a bit thin."
    "Typical," Shelby murmured, with the shadow of a frown in her eyes. "Clothes are as political as beliefs
    probably more. Dark suits, white shirt, you're a conservative.
    —
    Loafers and a cashmere sweater, a liberal."
    He'd heard that slick arrogance toward his profession before
    quiet or noisy depending
    —
    on the occasion. Normally Alan ignored it. This time it irked him. "You tend to simplify, don't you?"
    "Only what I don't have any patience with," she acknowledged carelessly. "Politics've been an annoying byproduct of society since before Moses debated with Ramses." The smile began to play around his mouth again.
    Shelby didn't know him well enough yet to realize it was a challenging one. To think he'd nearly given in to the urge to stay home and spend a quiet evening with a book.
    "You don't care for politicians."
    "It's one of the few generalizations I'm prone to. They come in several flavors stuffy,
    —
    zealot, hungry, shaky. I've always found it frightening that a handful of men run this strange world. So

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    pretend I really do have control over my own destiny." She leaned closer again, enjoying the way the shadows of the willow played over his face. It was tempting to test the shape and feel of it with her fingers. "Would you like to go back in?"
    "No." Alan let his thumb trace lightly over her wrist. He felt the quick, almost surprised increase of her pulse. "I had no idea how bored I was in there until I came out here." Shelby's smile was instant and brilliant. "The highest of compliments, glibly stated. You're not Irish, are you?"
    He shook his head, wondering just how that mobile, pixielike mouth was going to taste.
    "Scottish."
    "Good God, so am I." The shadow crossed her eyes again as a trickle of anticipation ran along her skin. "I'm beginning to think it's fate. I've never been comfortable with fate."
    "Controlling your own destiny?" Giving in to a rare impulse, he lifted her fingers to his lips.
    "I prefer the driver's seat," she agreed, but she let her hand linger there, pleasing them both. "The Campbell practicality."
    This time it was Alan's turn to laugh, long and with unbridled amusement. "To old feuds," he said, lifting his glass to her. "Undoubtedly our ancestors slaughtered one another to the wailing of bagpipes. I'm of the clan MacGregor." Shelby grinned. "My grandfather would put me on bread and water for giving you the right time. A damn mad